


Purebloods And Halfbreeds

by azulights, Ravenclaw_Peredhel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alphard is the best uncle, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And it's going to be so fun, Arranged Marriage, Baby Regulus Black, Baby Werewolves, Because this is a cliche OC-insert fic, Cos Purebloods, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fucking Harry Potter shit up, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Little Adorable Baby Puffball Werewolves, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Feels, Reincarnation, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Romana and Aries are fucking shit up, Self-Insert, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Werewolf Puppies, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Young Regulus Black, Young Remus Lupin, eventually, with OCs, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulights/pseuds/azulights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw_Peredhel/pseuds/Ravenclaw_Peredhel
Summary: Mae Osbourne and Eva Tranh have only two things in common: their friend Paige Quinston and their love of Harry Potter.Until one day a car accident gives them a lot more in common. Meet Romana Lupin and Aries Black, two girls who definitely weren't supposed to exist.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44
Collections: Best of the time travel and SI/OCs





	1. The End Of The Beginning

"Eva, this is Mae, Mae this is Eva. Be nice Mae." Paige Quinston grinned at her two friends. 

I twisted my dress's sleeve between my manicured nails. I smiled warily at Mae, who stood confidently opposite me, hands in her jeans pockets and feet planted sturdily on the ground, without a care in the world. Mae grinned at Paige, showing all her teeth, her wide brown eyes sparkling. "I'm always nice Paige. Look, I even wore the teddy bear jacket." 

Paige sighed, her hand meeting her forehead with a loud smack. "Oh my gosh Mae. A teddy bear jacket does not equal nice." I would have agreed, but I felt rather overwhelmed. Mae was so big and confident that shy little me felt rather overwhelmed. I wished suddenly that I had left my long black hair loose. It would have been like a shield, and given me a little comfort. 

Mae shrugged and held out a hand. "Hey Eva. I'm Mae, Slytherin." At that, I perked up. 

"Eva, Hufflepuff."

Mae threw back her head and laughed. "Another Harry Potter fan who is friends with Paige! Will wonders never cease?" I smiled back, feeling suddenly a lot more comfortable with Mae. 

"I think she secretly likes it, but won't admit it out of pride."

"Oh hell no! I hate that stuff." Paige interjected vehemently, but she was smiling. "Why do all my friends like that shit?" 

"Paige! Harry potter is the best! I've been telling you this since we were five, it has no equal!" 

"Exactly! It's got so much potential, and so many characters and points to exploit and argue." Paige threw up her hands at her friends double attack. 

"This was a terrible idea. I thought that maybe the two of you had little enough in common that the one thing I disagree on with both of you wouldn't be brought up, but no."

"Whatever." Mae caught my arm and started walking, shouting over her shoulder. "We're going back to you and Eva's flat, and you can join us when you see the truth." She turned back to me. "Now, make or break, favorite Harry Potter era."

"Marauders totally. Although Founders is a close second."

Mae whooped and threw her free arm up in the air. "Yes! We are going to be great friends." I smiled. Mae might be a little more exuberant than I was used to, but she seemed nice enough. 

We walked through the town towards the student flats, chatting avidly. At the cross-roads, the lights turned green for pedestrians. Still talking nineteen-to-the-dozen, now about preferred talents, we never saw the Ford Focus that didn't brake quite quickly enough. 

"No, Metamorphmagus is obviously better." I was enjoying myself, and my shyness had melted away as though it was never there. ''No one could ever find you, you could change right down to your DNA."

"Your studying to be a doctor, of course you'd think that genes was what mattered. But you could still be detected by your thoughts. A Legilimens cannot be fooled by things like DNA."

"And you're biased towards things that would help you as a lawyer. Fine, but duelling and defence against the dark arts is definitely the best otherwise."

"Oh my gosh, totally. Defence is the best."

"Although...Dark Arts does sound fascinating." Mae made a noise of derision. 

"Defence has Patronus. Like, seriously it's going to-" She never finished her sentence. Instead a mass of metal and wheels flashed in a blur across my vision. And me. I felt a lot of pain, and had enough time to realise that my legs were crushed and my heart ruptured before my brain expired. My last thought was pain yes, but also annoyance that I hadn't finished that essay on melanomas. 

***************

It is dark. Very dark. And wet. And I'm not breathing. Crap, I'm not breathing. I'm not breathing! I'm going to...die? I'm already dead. I can't die again can I? Okay, breathe Eva. Ack. Okay, lungs do not work. But I'm not in any physical distress. 

What was that? Something bumped into me! There it is again. My eyes don't work...my eyes don't work. Am I blind?

I float in this odd nothingness for what seems like years, always with that other prescence beside me, hoping it isn't dangerous. I wonder what happened to me, but until I can see and hear, I will have no way to find out. 

The liquid is gone. And I'm following it. Ouch! I'm being squeezed down into...light. I can hear things! There is a horrible moment where I am being squashed and squeezed within an inch of my life until...relief. 

Light, and air and sound. Oh how I've missed it! The sounds are...worried. What are they saying? "...silent. Lady Black...I am afraid the baby may be..." Oh. Oh no. No. No. No. I'm nt a baby. I'm a twenty-three year old medicine student. I open my mouth to tell them so, but only a long piercing wail comes out. 

I really am a baby. No, no, no. This can't be happening! 

A while later, I find myself lying in a crib next to my twin. Sirius Orion Black, fifteen minutes my junior. I consider crying again, but taking my new parents into account it might not end well. Okay Eva you can do this...no. This is, somehow, a new life. You'll just have to adjust. Aries Eira Black, you can do this. 

I need to catalogue what I know. My name is Aries Eira Black, my twin brother is Sirius Orion Black. My parents are Walburga and Orion Black, and they have foistes their newborn twins off onto some odd being names Kreacher as soon as humanly possible. I am the twin sister of Sirius Black. In Harry Potter. My twin is...not going to die if I have anything to do with it. Nor is he going to Azkaban. 

Which brings me to an interesting thought. Where is Mae? 

*******************

The first thing I can recall about the second time I was born is the screaming baby next to me. Like, I swear to God, why did my twin have to be the most pretentious little crybaby known to man? I don’t like kids anyway, but this just seems like some cruel punishment handpicked in order to cause me pain.

Much like the fluorescent hospital lights above our heads that are practically blinding me. I didn’t know babies could get headaches, but the cocktail of ear splitting screaming and nauseating lighting situation is truly dire.

And then there’s the name situation I’ve managed to land myself in. My twin brother is called Remus Lupin. Now that on it’s own would be embarrassing. But then they called me ROMANA. Like Remus and Romulus. The twins raised by wolves. I feel pretty bad for the both of us now.

  
Honestly, I feel bad for a lot of people in this situation. First of all, myself. I was happily living in broke student bliss, studying to be a lawyer even though I never did the coursework, the way I had expected it to go, really. But then my childhood friend Paige organised a little get together with her and her new university friend. Said university friend thought it would be a good idea to disagree with a lawyer in training, and then we got a bit caught up in the moment, and next thing we know we’ve both been killed by a speeding Ford Focus.

Needless to say, I’m pretty pissed about that. Not the death part, but a Ford Focus? Are you kidding me? I’d prefer to go with a bit more class, say an out of control Range Rover.  
And then poor Paige, losing both of her friends right in front of her on the same day. That’s just depressing.

  
I don’t really have anymore time to dwell on my thoughts though, as I’m being jostled around like crazy. First to a pair of blue nitrile gloved hands, which are prodding here there and everywhere. It’s like these people don’t know that babies are actually alive and can feel things.

After all, if they did, they wouldn’t be examining my tiny, weak baby body like I was a rag doll. Now, I’m not one to cry when I get hurt, but then again I wasn’t previously a defenceless 20 minute old. Naturally, I begin to scream with as much force as my little lungs will allow. It’s surprisingly deafening.

That seems to give them the hint. Almost immediately, I’m passed back to who I can only assume is my mother. I don’t know who she is, not at all, but I do know that I’m now her daughter, and I have a younger brother.

Younger by ten minutes, that is. He is currently being held by my father. From snatches of conversation I can understand, I’m Romana Lupin and he’s Remus Lupin. I can only assume that I’ve somehow managed to warp reality and I’ve ended up as Remus Lupin’s twin in the Harry Potter universe. Which would make the woman holding me Hope Lupin, and the man holding my brother Lyall Lupin. All these factors would make my brother, Remus Lupin, a werewolf. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is Ravenclaw_Peredhel.  
> I am co-writing Purebloods and Halfbreeds with the wonderful azulights. She wrote the last scene in this chapter and I wrote everything else.  
> Read and review 😁


	2. Baby steps

Being a baby is really really really boring. Like, so boring I am tempted to just scream and scream and scream until my parents just have to come because then at least it will be something to do. But it would have no effect, and being a 'problem child' could potentially cause problems of its own in the future. So, instead, I stay quiet and good, submitting easily to Kreacher's (and occasionally Walburga's and even more rarely Orion's) manhandling while I plan and plot my life. 

No harm in working it out now. Lets see...goals. Sirius will not die if I have anything to say about it, nor will he spend twelve years in Azkaban. If Regulus is born, I will do everything in my power to keep him alive as well. 

Oh, what's that? Another man, not Orion. And Walburga. Agh, confound these baby ears and this baby brain. I have so much trouble understanding things now. "...niece and nephew...being silly...best uncle...Burgie what..."

I like him, so in the interest of being a thoroughly adorable child, I giggle. He breaks off sudddenly and points at my...hair? Walburga...no, Mother, follows his gaze, and then gasps. 

''A Metamorphmagus! Orion!" Damn her voice is shrill. 

The upshot of it all, as far as I can follow, is that while Sirius is going to be the Heir Black and trained ruthlessly for the position of Lord Black, I as the first female Metamorphmagus of the House Black since Cassiopeia, am going to be put through the same vigorous training to be a Lady. Apparently Metamorphmagi are highly desired brides. Seriously? I'm all of five months old and they are already looking to foist me off onto someone. 

"Ga!" I can't help but reply in kind. Already Sirius is infectious. I shudder to think about what could happen to my intellect due to long term exposure to him. 

"Missy Aries and Master Sirius must be quiet.'' Killjoy Kreacher. Honestly, what is wrong with him. "Master and Mistress have guests over, and Kreacher will be punished if the babies are heard." Sirius, seeming to be aiming for most hated baby of the year, promptly starts to cry but Kreacher snaps his fingers and Silences him. I smile a wide, toothless baby smile at him and his crotchety old face visibly softens in response. A (very) quiet gurgle and he is putty in my pudgy baby hands. 

Operation Perfect Pureblood Lady is a go.

***  
If someone had told me that being a baby was sleeping all the time and then screaming when you were hungry, I would’ve stayed as a baby for my whole life. Or at least tried. There is something oddly comforting about being helpless, as it means whenever you kick up a fuss you are immediately checked over and given the literal world.

Plus, I’ve really gotten lucky by being born into the Lupin family. 

Of course, there’s the whole “my brother turns into a werewolf” issue to contend with, but maybe my influence could convince Lyall to not bash on werewolves in the future. Although, I’m not going to be able to enact that plan in my current state, as I can’t talk. 

My vocabulary is pretty much untellable noises at the moment, which matches up with what I can understand. Pretty much nothing. But these stupid squawks and random letters seems to be an effective way of communicating, as every time I attempt to talk I’m fussed over or cooed at in sort of admiration, which is stupid but also very welcome.

What I’ve picked up on is that my parents are both very, very gentle with us two. I mean you have to be, with Remus. Anything and everything sets that boy off. I mean, he is a little “fragile.” As for me, I’m trying to be positive. Which must make me a really strange baby. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to play happy families and keep everything all peaceful until the werewolf disaster strikes. Or maybe it’s because I can just tell how tired my parents are. 

Hold on. I don’t think I’m supposed to be able to do that. Being able to read minds and stuff, sure, it’s definitely possible. I wasn’t anticipating me being able to do it though, especially at my young age. I don’t think 3 month olds can do that.

Even though my previous life taught me that growing up too fast absolutely sucks, I kind of can’t wait to be older. It’s an exciting prospect, growing up in a world of magic, and the anticipation is killing me. And also, I’ve decided being a baby isn’t actually all it was originally fleshed out to be. 

Not going to lie, I’m kind of sick of being constantly fussed over. There’s only so many times in a day in which you can be cuddled. Hope’s hair is incredibly tickly, and I swear that woman never wears her hair up. I really wished she would, as her hair is dangling in my face yet again and it’s just so itchy. Her eyes are very pretty though. I haven’t seen myself in a mirror yet- after all, I’m what people would class as an “infant” AND I would most likely look like a shrivelled alien- but hopefully I have her eyes. 

That sounds so weird. But all of this is weird. Nothing about this situation is normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, azulights here! This chapter was of course written with the wonderful Ravenclaw_Peredhel (her part being the Aries Black passage)  
> We are literally both overflowing with ideas and Pinterest boards and can't wait to continue :)
> 
> I hope you are enjoying so far, and please feel free to leave a review!


	3. Forewarning

The toddler years aren’t quite as idyllic as the infant ones were. Okay, cool, now I’m able to move on my own, but not properly. My limbs just don’t want to work the way that they’re supposed to, and I can’t talk properly either. It’s frustrating, being close to something somewhat normal, and yet being given a handicap by the biological capabilities of a toddler’s body. 

The other issue to contend with is MAGIC. No one told me that being a toddler witch means you have to cope with these random outbursts of uncontrolled magic. It’s a pain in the arse, especially considering the fact I have a twin. Remus seems to have it out for me. There’s only so many times one can accidentally set one’s sibling on fire before it becomes blatantly obvious that they are doing it entirely on purpose . Yes, I’m planning on getting him back. And yes, I am just about ready to enact an “exclusive to Remus John Lupin” genocide. I’m only three, but I think it can be done. 

As of current, he’s somehow managed to hold of Dad’s wand. I’m completely defenceless and have no way of tormenting him. I wish I could just grab him and the stupid wand and stab it right in his eye, that would stop him. But then again, I’d rather not get reprimanded by Mum and Dad for something that I definitely didn’t intend to happen. 

Don’t get me wrong. For the most part, Remus is pretty fun to be around. Even at this young age, he’s quite and reserved and keeps himself to himself. It’s pleasant, to be fair. This whole bizarre situation that I’ve managed to land myself in isn’t really as bad as I originally thought, especially considering how nice and comforting everything is. A certain warmth radiates from both of our parents and its just so goddamn clear how much love is leaking from the seams of this household.

There is another thing, though. A looming presence. Remus has no idea, he’s too busy acting cute and innocent and babyish as he should be doing. He doesn’t realise, he doesn’t acknowledge the whispering. My parents, hissing behind closed doors, unspeakable things about werewolves. 

It’s frustrating, truly. Having all this past life is really screwing me over. It mentally stings me, every time I think about it. I know what’s coming and I want to tell them all, but I’m just a kid. I can’t even speak properly, let alone warn them. They’ll mistake my screaming, my pleading, for just another toddler tantrum as we grow up. They’ll excuse my crying for a strop, probably caused by me not getting what I wanted. But I’m not getting what I want!   
“Hope, you know we can’t trust these filthy half-breeds!”  
“I know that, I just think you are being dreadfully unfair!”  
“How? Of course I’m against their kind! They are soulless, evil, vile creatures and deserve nothing more than death!”

This argument comes after a muggle village is attacked. From what I managed to string together from whispers and emotions, werewolves entered a small village, full to the brim with unassuming muggles, and two children were ripped apart. Really, really grotesque stuff.

I get where he’s coming from, I do. My brain maybe that of a toddler’s but my previous memories and knowledge remind me that this was an inhumane and disgusting attack. But he doesn’t know. It’s uncontrollable, painful. It’s not their fault. He doesn’t know what’s going to come to his child. He doesn’t know that his child is going to become the very thing he’s hell bent on destroying…

***

Being a toddler is remarkably better than being an infant. I have far better motor skills as well as elocution ones. Kreacher is wrapped around my pinky finger, and as such I have less supervision and restriction than say...my twin. 

Siri fights and rages at every single thing and it is getting a little wearying. As well as the fact that we are magical toddlers. Thankfully, my magic mostly manifests in my Metamorphic abilites. My twin's in explosions and other fun things. 

''Ari! Ari come!'' I heave my diapered behind up and toddle over to my twin, who will surely begin to scream if I do not. Goodness knows he has been Silenced enough today. He hands me a block and I place it on top of his tower, being sure to time my adorable giggle and hand clap with a)Mother and Father's entrance and b) the end of playtime. 

"Ah, well done Aries. Kreacher, take them for a nap now." And as always, they give us a winter-pale gleam of approval before sending us off to bed like toys they tire of. The same old routine as ever, Kreacher appears with a crack, I stretch up my arms with an adorable toddler grin and cry of 'Keecha' and Sirius goes off into a huge tantrum. Kreacher Silences him, and I wave goodbye to my parents from my spot in Kreacher's arms while Sirius floats behind, screaming and purple in the face. As always. 

The nap is brief and refreshing and I feel a lot happier for it. Then I discover that my cousins are coming over. I have mixed feelings about them. Bella is the oldest, already at Hogwarts, and I would consider her intimidating without my future knowledge. To me, she just seems like a budding psychopath. Andi is ten, pretty and lively, and quite possibly my favourite cousin. Then there's Narcissa, the same age as Siri and myself, and a regular wet blanket of ever there was one. She cries at everything. Like, everything. 

I smile and gurgle and play along with my cousins until I feel the adults gaze on us. Then I start to let my magic play havoc with my appearance and, in keeping with her guise of loving mother, Mother scoops me up into her arms with a cry of delight and showers me with kisses and congratulations. I don't mind - in fact, it is the only way I get any love from my parents at all. Firmly, I shut away that thought. Such negative thinking is going to do me no good in the long run. 

In our cribs that night, Sirius is annoyed with me. ''Ari mean."

''Not. Want hug. Change, Ari get hug."

"No. Ari mean! Ari leave Siri!" His voice is starting to rise, and I hasten to calm him as quickly as I can. I love my brother, but he has not filter at all. Duly mollified, he condescends to babble at me until he falls asleep.

I gurgle and babble to myself, in a code of sorts. Kreacher pops in every now and then and whenever I am awake I squeal and yell 'Keecha'. Not loud enough to reach Orion and Walburga, but loud enough that it seems like a typical toddler thing. I love being a toddler - it is so easy to be adorable. Kreacher is a particular favourite of mine, partly because he has such wonderful ears to play with, and partly because he can silence my truly exasperating twin. Sirius...I love him I really do, but I have problems relating to loud obnoxious people. I cannot wait for Regulus to be born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!! Here's to 2021 being slightly less of a living hell!
> 
> As always, this chapter has been co-written by Ravenclaw_Peredhel !! 
> 
> Now, let me tell you, writing toddlers is really hard. Like, really hard. I'm glad we've managed to get that over and done with!
> 
> Quick TW for the next chapter- it's the werewolf attack. Expect some gore.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed, and feel free to leave a review!


	4. Two very different beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- Graphic violence, mentions of blood and scars. Mild swearing.
> 
> Please be kind to yourselves and skip if any of that triggers you <3

Walburga screamed again. I flinch a little, because my mother has a really piercing voice. And the lungs to back it up. Quite impressive actually, considering this has been going on for nearly an entire day. Also slightly worrying. Is she alright? I hope she is. She's not the best mother, but I don't want her to die - she's the only mother I have in this life.

Father looks a bit stressed, and to be honest I really don't blame him. The threats coming through the door are impressive, and I happen to know that every single one can be backed up by a curse. I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or impressed by the sheer amount of Dark and painful spells that Mother knows. Where would she even need them?

A rather canine whine attracts my attention. Sirius is bored. Very understandable, considering that we are two. And have been here for nearly seven hours. Kreacher has Silenced Sirius an impressive total of twenty-nine times, which I am certain is terribly bad for his development, but I can't really do anything about it considering that I am also two.

*******************

My baby brother is already my new best friend. Even if I have only had a peep at him. He's small and quiet and not wriggly and whiny like my twin, who I love dearly but who gets on my nerves a lot.

"Aries, Sirius. This is your brother - Regulus Arcturus Black."

''Regus." That is the closest approximation my two-year old palate can get to my new brother's name, but from the pleased nod that Father gives me, it is sufficient.

"Siri see!" And the brief glow of having something approaching a normal relationship with my parents is extinguished with Sirius' whine. Before either of us can react, we and our new baby brother have been popped back to the nursery by Kreacher.

The house-elf moves to put Reggie in the crib, but I manage to force my sluggish toddler mouth to form the words I want it to. Or nearly, at least. "Keecha! Ari hold Regus!"

He is reluctant, but eventually concedes that if I sit in the pillow mountain I won't drop him. And I hold my baby brother for the first time.

Regulus Arcturus Black. For the first time it hits me, just how real this is. Because the little baby I am holding will grow up to be a Death-Eater, and then to play one of the most vital parts in taking Voldemort down. Because this tiny snoozing baby will one day be left all alone in this very house with only his insane mother and her house-elf. Because my baby brother is going to die, all alone, and terrified. Because he will be eighteen when he dies. Because I don't want to lose my baby brother.

I give him back to Kreacher, and then curl up and go to sleep. I don't want to face my brothers deaths, even though I know that I will see them in my dreams.

As I doze off, I wonder drowsily if Siri will grow up to look like Gary Oldman. That would be funny.

Then I am asleep, and though my dreams are troubled enough to warrant waking up with a Silencing spell on me, I do not remember them.

******

**THREE YEARS LATER**

I’m five, and I’m pretty sure I’m a legilimens. My accidental bursts of magic are nowhere near as outwardly clear as Remus’ are, I don’t accidentally set things on fire or turn our kitchen into a mini lake. But, I don’t think he can tell what people are thinking, like I can.

Like today, when Dad walks through the front door, and he’s just dripping with this feeling of regret, and annoyance, and embarrassment. I have no idea why, but as we sit round the dinner table, I accidentally do it again. I don’t mean to. Invading people’s thoughts is a lot less fun than I imagined, back before, when I was Mae. Not constantly freaking out about a werewolf possibly attacking my family and everyone dying. Really happy thoughts there, Romana.

Entering someone’s mind feels like drifiting off into a daydream. But, a really fractured and distorted one. It must be because I haven’t had training in it and didn’t even intend it in the first place.

_Flash._ Darkness, but undoubtably my Dad’s voice. “Werewolves are evil and deserve to be put down like the animals they are!” _Flash._ A green tiled debate room. Dad stood up, apparently shouting. _Flash._ A grey haired man, covered with scars, lurching closer to me. Long, greasy hair hangs from his head and his sharp teeth are bared in a frown. Fenrir Greyback. And I’m pulled out again, Dad none the wiser. My stomach twists. I glance over at Remus, who is oblivious to all this, and then to the window, at the darkening sky. My face pales as I realise, _shit_ , the moon is full tonight. Mum must notice my face, as she enquires, “Darling, are you alright?”. I want to scream back, _Of course I’m not okay! Dad insulted the entire werewolf community at work today and it’s a Goddamn full moon! Oh, and by the way, I’ve known this for my whole life BECAUSE I WAS REINCARNATED AS YOUR BLOODY DAUGHTER but now the danger is real and I’m sure its happening tonight!_ Of course I don’t say that. She’d look at me like I was mad, take me to a Psychiatrist. For a five year old to be coming out with that nonsense, they’d have to be seriously off their rocker. But I know it’s true!

I must’ve wiped the rest of that gut-wrenching evening from my mind, because the next thing I know is that both of us are being forced upstairs. I’m walking to my death sentence, I’m walking to my death sentence… a scream sounds downstairs. No. This can’t be happening.

I kick open the bedroom door to find… well, Remus. Not scratched up and bleeding like I thought though. He’s protesting. He says he doesn’t want to go to bed because there’s a monster under the bed, even though he knows there isn’t, even though Dad told us that story to try and deter us from complaining about the alleged monster. The boy who cried wolf. I want to cry at the irony.

***

It’s late, but I can’t sleep. A pale moonlight dances across the bedroom floor and my skin prickles, as well as my eyes. He hasn’t come yet. Maybe he won’t. Maybe I’m paranoid.

A light scraping sounds across the wood floor, following by a scrabbling. That’s claws. That’s 100% the sound of claws.

I want to scream, I want to get up and run, I want to drag Remus out of his deep sleep and kick him down the goddamn stairs if I have to. But I can’t. I’m completely frozen, I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t think. My eyelids are pressed hard closed, but it doesn’t matter because I can hear his breathing, I can smell the stench of something wolfish. And then the breathing turns into a whimper and the whimper turns into a growl and then I can feel a row of teeth around my leg. It stays clamped around my leg, I can’t speak, I can’t breathe, I can feel my blood pouring down my leg as he bites down further into my flesh. Terror seems to have frozen time, before the wolf snaps his head round to the side and I’m thrown down with so much force my eyes water. I heard a bone crack, I swear. And suddenly a guttural noise followed by a sob is escaping my lips and I want to force myself to be quiet, but I can’t. I can’t.

The familiar growling is getting closer and I force myself to open my eyes. My chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate, my leg is at an odd angle and bleeding ( I could tell that from the pain though) and the wolf is there. Piercing yellow eyes stare at me out of the gloom and the wolf’s sharp white teeth are glinting menacingly in the moonlight. I steal at glance at my brother’s sleeping body, completely unaware to what’s happening. I want him to escape. I need him to wake up, I need him to get out of here!

A huge heavy weight pounces onto my chest, a paw slashed across my face, leaving streams of blood to cascade into my mouth and fill it with a metallic tang. The pain is unbearable, I scream out, and that earns a chunk of flesh ripped from my left arm as well as another set of claws torn down my side. I want to curl up and escape this, I just want to die, the pain is so awful. I writhe in a pool of my own blood while trying to dull the pain, trying to reach out of my brother.

“Remus! Remus, help! Help me, please, help me!” I cry out, my tears mixing with the scarlett screams as he bites my leg again. I’m weeping now, turning my head to him as I hear a shuffle in his bed. He sits up with a start and his eyes naturally gravitate to the source of the noise. He spots me immediately, along with the wolf.

“Rommie! Rom-“ He rushes towards me, but the wolf tosses me aside again like I’m a ragdoll. My leg is completely wrong again. I can barely see, due to the waterfall of tears and red streaming down my face and I feel too weak to support myself. I can’t move from where I’m slouched, so _I have to watch_ as my brother is pinned down and attacked relentlessly. I have to listen to his screams, each and every one more painful than the next. Blood pours from his side as another piece of him is clawed at, tears are streaming down his bloodstained face and he just looks so terrified. The wolf lashes out again, tainting his limbs with a crisscross of deep and painful cuts, attacking his torso similarly. He was trying to fight him off originally, but he’s given up. Or he can’t, like me. I try to wipe some of the blood off my face but my hands are just as covered. Spots dance in front of my vision, subjecting me purely to the sound of my sobs, his sobs, his growl, his screams, my screams. And then a crash.

My Mum screams, my Dad shouts, and from behind my closed eyelids a flash of red light fills the room. The wolf whimpers and backs off, from the sound of the claws on the floor. I curl into myself defensively, in case he comes back. I really can’t handle it. I feel like I’m dying already, if he comes back I’ll most certainly perish. But he doesn’t. He crashes out the window and bounds away, howling as he does so.

My mum rushes over and takes me up in her arms, holding me tightly and stroking my hair, tears streaming down her face. My dad must be sorting out Remus, I can hear him muttering, “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“Mum, when will it stop hurting?” I croak, coughing up a little blood as I do so.

“Soon, darling. Very soon.”

***

The next thing I know, I’m lying in a pristine white bed. The ceiling’s white, the floor is white. Is this heaven? No, surely not. The pain is excruciating. I look at my arm. Several silvery scars cover it, like some really badly botched tattoos. The lines remind me what happened and explain why I’m here. Me and Remus were attacked by a werewolf. Probably Fenrir Greyback, but he was a wolf, so I have no idea. It was painful and there was so much screaming. It still rings in my ears, like a bad memory.

A hand curls around the curtain that surrounds the bed I’m in and my Mum walks in, a bar of chocolate in her hands. Back when I was Mae, it was my comfort food. I guess things don’t change.

“Sweetie! Thank god you’re awake!”

She rushes over to me and hugs me. I don’t have the heart to tell her how much this hurts.

“Mum?”

“Yes, Romana?”

“Where’s Remus?”

“Oh.” Holy crap, did he die? Did Fenrir kill him? Oh my god. Tears prick at my eyes, roll down my cheeks. Unfortunately, the salt in them stings at the wounds on my face causing me to cringe in pain.

“He’s okay. In a worse state than you, though.” I dread to think how he is, if this is what I’m like.

“Romana!” Dad bursts in, and then glances at me. He looks distraught. I want to hate him, I really do. His careless mouth and opinions caused all this to happen, but I can’t. Not when he kneels down, takes my hand and repeats his apologies over again.

“What’s going to happen to us? Me and Remus?” I know the answer, of course I do. But I just want to be sure. Maybe I just want to cling onto the shred of hope I still have.

“Oh. Well, there’s no way to really break it to you… easily. Rommie, I’m so, so sorry darling, but you’ve been turned. You’re a werewolf now. Like your brother.”

My heart drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this was hard to write. And hard to proofread, too. The rating definitely has to be changed now...
> 
> I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST HALF OF THIS CHAPTER (not written by me, credits to the wonderful Ravenclaw_Peredhel) BECAUSE MY PART WAS REALLY DEPRESSING
> 
> Anyways, feel free to leave a review
> 
> Azulights x


	5. Growth

The transformations have been happening for a few years now, but it doesn’t make them any easier. In fact, the anticipation makes it far worse. Remus never talks about it, it’s like he wants to banish the whole situation from his mind and completely forget. I can’t.

Every time the full moon rises over the horizon, it’s like an invisible hand is ripping my skin apart and breaking all my bones. If I were still Mae in this situation, I’d resent it even more. Thank god for magical remedies, but still. Wandwork doesn’t erase the criss cross of scars that lace my body like a thin spider web. Wandwork doesn’t erase the guilt I feel looking at Remus after a moon. I probably inflicted some of those scars onto him, just for something to attack, just for something to feed my werewolf bloodlust. The very thought of it makes me sick to my stomach- and it’s not even like he does it back, like some kind of sick playfighting. 

Every time the full moon rises into the velvet scapes of the sky, me and my nine year old twin brother are locked away in an isolated room in the house, away from everything. All our parents can do is watch as our blood mixes and soaks into the floor. They have to listen to our screams followed by poorly attempted howls, fault of our werewolf physique resembling that of a puppy. They cant help us, they have to just stand there. And watch us suffer.

Mum tried to tell me I was cute, we were cute, like little puppies chasing each other and playing together. But I know she’s lying, because the deep gashes in the floorboards and each other’s skin suggests we are far from the innocent, playful puppies she makes us out to be.

Dad tries to avoid the topic, and I know why. I know what Lyall Lupin said to those beasts and I know it’s his fault for provoking it. I can’t wait to be at Hogwarts and out of his sight. I don’t want his pity, I want him to feel guilty for what he did and suffer the consequences. He deserves every part of the cruel punishment he’s put through. Hell, he should be the one having to transform every month. The he’ll realise how stupid it was for him to go around insulting communities he didn’t know half a shit about. And yes, the expletives have stayed from being Mae. It’s an appropriate situation though!

One night I complain about my feelings to my brother.

“Remus, don’t you just want to slap Dad in his fu- I mean, his face?”  
“What the hell, Rommie?!”  
“For what we have to go to, because of him-“  
“It’s not his fault!”  
My head quickly turns from facing the ceiling to facing him at the other side of the room. I scowl at him, even though he probably won’t be able to make out my disgruntled face in the dark. He’s being his stupid and overly apologetic self as always, and I’m frankly sick and tired of it. He needs to face it- Dad isn’t the hero he makes him out to be. In our story, I regard him as the complete opposite. He’s as close to an arch-nemesis as we can get.

“What do you mean? How could you be so oblivious?” I spit back at him, my tone laced in a toxic manner. 

“It’s. Not. His. Fault.” He repeats, sturdier this time. Goddamnit, I’m sick to death of this boy. He’s too forgiving, I can’t truly understand him.

Before all this crazy reincarnation stuff happened, I thought about what Lupin’s dad was like. I always felt bad for him, because having your own child ripped apart and turned into the very thing you despised must be so painful to witness. But he prompted the attack, it was all his fault. He deserves every ounce of regret he’s burdened with, as he’s a coward. That’s all he is. And that’s all he’ll ever be.

“You can’t keep denying it. You know it’s his fault, don’t you know what he said to them? Do you know what he said about ‘our kind’?!”

That got a reaction out of him. He sits up with a violent lurch, seething head to toe. He looks me dead in the eye with an almost murderous glint in his eye. I’ve successfully gotten a rise out of him, and I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am. I may be some kind of sadist but at least I’m not a cowardly bastard like Lyall Lupin.

“What the hell, Rommie? Have you even talked to him about it since it happened? What do you think you know that I don’t?”  
“The night before the attack… something… happened.”  
“What, what… happened-“ His voice sounds shaky and nervous, but its also spiked with a venom I can’t quite pinpoint.  
I take a deep breath. Of course, he wouldn’t know. He can’t invade others thoughts like I can. I’m still apprehensive to tell him though, despite the fact we’re siblings and at times I feel as if I can entrust him with my life. My potential legilimency is something I’d rather selfishly keep quiet. 

Maybe I want to use it as a weapon, I don’t know. But I’ve also always liked being in the loop, knowing what’s happening at all times, even if I’m not supposed to. Getting into people’s heads is an added bonus. 

Some truths are a little hard to deal with though. I didn’t need to know the extent we are struggling with money, to be honest. At least now I know.

“That night we got attacked, Dad said something at work in front of Greyback.”  
“I know.”  
“Wha- how!?”  
“Rommie, I talked to him. He explained. You don’t know the context.”  
“I don’t need to know the context! He said, and I quote, ‘Werewolves are evil and deserve to be put down like the animals they are!’ OF COURSE GREYBACK WAS OFFENDED! OF COURSE HE ATTACKED US!”  
Surprisingly, Remus is unphased by my outburst, however he flinches slightly at the comment. It cuts deep, knowing what werewolves have to go through from a firsthand perspective.

“Like I said, you don’t know the context. That was said, and it was said towards Greyback, but it was during a court trial. It was an opinion that was expressed based on a chain of unprovoked attacks against muggle children mostly resulting in death. The attack on us two was Greyback telling Dad to stop trying to get him and his pack locked in Azkaban. I hate what he said, but he was right. Greyback and friends do need to be put down because they haven’t stopped these attacks. Rommie, forgive him.”

I sink down onto the bed and my gut twists painfully with guilt. I’ve held onto this grudge for years without even trying to understand, and here’s Remus. He was hurt, but he asked, and he understood. He doesn’t resent Dad, and I shouldn’t either. I’m not really one for sitting down and talking about problems but this seems necessary. I’m going to fix this.

And I do. The next day, me and Dad talk, and all is well again. Mostly.

I wonder how Eva is doing. I wonder if her new life is as insane as mine. I wonder if our paths will cross again.

*******

Sometimes, I lock myself in my room and close the curtains. Then I stand in front of the mirror and concentrate. If everything goes right, my features tingle and itch and move, and then Eva Tranh is reflected out of the mirror at me. Younger and smaller than I remember her, for I haven’t worked out how to change my age yet, but indisputably her. Me.  
This time though, something is different. Eva’s features have not the comfortable fit that is as though I am slipping on well-worn shoes. They feel...itchy and wrong when I tell myself that they are my features. I tell myself that it is only because it is so long since I last did this.  
I no longer look like Eva. Eva was little and thin, with sallow skin and dark brown hair. I liked her eyes, which were dark black and very large. It is Eva’s face that stares at me out of the mirror, but the posture is still Aries. Life with my lovely parents has given me an almost unshakeably perfect posture, even at the age of nine. Eva never stood so straight, she was always hunched over and shy, but even with her face pasted over mine I can still see Aries in the way I hold myself and move. Aries and Eva had similar general looks, but they are very different in truth.  
With a sigh I scrunch up my face and relax it, melting into my now accustomed features. Silky black hair, silver eyes as large as Eva’s if shaped differently, taller and willowy rather than thin, and with features that while still childish are already loosing their baby fat and becoming the delicately symmetrical features Pureblood women all wish for. Velvet and lace encase my body, and as I stare at Aries Black in the mirror, I come to a rather horrific realisation. Aries Black is me. Eva...the name no longer fits me, the way that made me look up when someone called it and when I said Eva, the image in my mind was me. No, Eva is a stranger...someone I no longer know. It frightens me. Nine years is all that it took to wipe out twenty years of life. Not even half the time it took to build Eva, and Aries has replaced her already.  
I reopen the curtains and unlock the door, going to sit at my desk with a book on runes I was reading. Leaving curtains and door as they were would make me feel better and more secure as I work through this revelation, but Mother and Father would be suspicious if I did so. Instead I bury myself in theory and tell myself that I am being silly. It is perfectly natural to adapt to your circumstances. But, another part of me argues, is loosing yourself really worth it?  
Is it really?  
I actually close my book to think about this, but the pitter-patter of feet sounds in the corridor outside and my brothers come into my room hand in hand. “Aries, come play with Siri and me!” Regulus is seven, with bright innocent eyes and a beaming smile. I promise myself that he will never loose the brightness of his soul if I must sell my own to achieve it. Sirius I am less worried about. He is my twin and I love him dearly, but he can take care of himself. Plus, I have about nine contingency plans in place in case of Azkaban anyway.  
It is worth it, I tell that niggling voice, because they love Aries not Eva. And I would do anything for them. Anything.  
The vehemence of my reply seems to shut the doubt down for a while, and I wonder if I really am entirely sane. Probably not. What with the trauma of death, actually remembering birth and my whole identity crisis wrapped up in a package with the Black genes I do not really stand a chance. Perhaps this is just the first sign of madness.  
Reggie’s elated giggle and bounce at my easy acquiescence is adorable, and my eyes meet my twin’s. A silent promise passes between us to protect this precious little brother, and to keep his bright, trusting eyes unshadowed. If we have our way, Regulus Black will die in bed of old age, with that infectious smile still on his lips.  
For the first time in years, I wonder what has happened to Mae. The strange thought occurs to me that maybe she too was hurled into this world of magic and affluence. I wonder if I will even recognise her if I meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi this is Ravenclaw_Peredhel.  
> Once more we co-wrote this chapter ☺  
> Unfortunately, even though we tried for fluff it didn't exactly work out.  
> Comments and kudos are very welcome and make us very happy.  
> Enjoy!


	6. Post

Miss A. Black

Third Bedroom on the Fourth Floor

Grimmauld Place

Islington

London

I turn the thick, creamy envelope over, hiding the bright emerald ink from sight and bringing the elaborate menagerie of a crest into view. Word for word, I know what I will find within. How often did I dream of this, when I was plain little Eva? Of a letter coming through the door, spiriting me away to a magical land where anything at all could happen. 

But the letter does not say Miss E. Tranh, but Miss A. Black. And it is not Eva’s mystified but loving parents who watch me hold the letter but Orion and Walburga, sitting straight and rigid – proper and perfect. Suddenly, the letter does not seem as magical as I thought it would. Because all of this merely serves to remind me that, once again, something of Eva’s is gone. In this case her dream. And in it’s place is yet another part of a girl I do not know. 

A crackle beside me reminds me that Sirius also has his letter. Identical to mine in every way, save that his is addressed to Heir S. Black not Miss A. Black. If Sirius has already gotten far enough through the letter to begin wrinkling it, then I have spent an adequate amount of time not to appear overeager to read my letter. After all, Muggleborns (though a far uglier word is used) attend – it is I who favours Hogwarts by attending, not the other way around. 

I pry the seal off delicately with my fingers, careful not to get any wax beneath my nails, and unfold the parchment within. It is really quite expensive. Thick and soft and bearing a watermark of the Hogwarts crest, my rigorously trained eye can see that it is beautiful, higher quality than most parchment. This kind of parchment would wipe out Hogwarts coffers within twenty years if it was used for every letter. I have a loud, thumping suspicion that only those Purebloods with families who could tell by looking the quality of the parchment. And whose family’s would be offended by the merest hint of anything less than the best.

More evidence of the bigotry and unfairness of the Wizarding World.   
Mentally shaking my head to rid me of these distractions (physically would earn me a stinging hex and a lecture on proper decorum at the least), I unfold the parchment. 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster:   
Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I finish reading and the only thought going through my head is wondering why they use such bright green ink. It is practically neon, and I rather dislike it. Carefully placing the sheet of parchment on the little table to my left, I continue on to the next, which contains the lists of equipment. To me it seems rather sparse considering that we are packing for a full year. I personally intend to bring such little things as underclothes, shoes and hair brushes which the genius that is the letter writer forgot to mention.

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

Hexes and Curses for Beginners by Ulavior Rhuxius

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

I am going to Hogwarts. I am going to learn to do magic, cast spells, brew potions, all of that and more. 

But none of it sparks the joy that I expect. Only the fleeting thought of months and months away from my parents generates a feeling of relief and bland joy.  
*****  
I fiddle with the bandages on my hands. The blood is seeping onto the white again, but it can’t be helped. They were pretty deep gouges, and chances are they won’t heal properly. Magically inflicted scars don’t heal normally. Last night was another particularly rough moon, and somehow I’m the one better off. From the sounds of things, Remus’ leg can’t support him right now. My parents have deduced I probably bit down on it and broke the bone, also leaving a series of . I don’t think the guilt ever goes away, or even gets better. It’s like a magically inflicted scar but on your mentality.

It’s five in the afternoon by the time I properly wake up and head downstairs. What no one tells you about being a werewolf is how royally it messes with your sleep schedule. You might not be conscious during the transformations but the late nights seriously take their toll on your body afterwards, especially when it’s already working overtime to try and prevent you from literally dying. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, after six years of transformations, but if anything they are worse. And I thought Mae’s teenager years were rough…

My leg twinges a little as I hobble down the stairs towards the kitchen, my stomach painfully growling. Through the wooden railings on the stairs I can see my brother, looking to be barely conscious, sprawled out on the sofa, my mother tending to his leg. I dare to take a peak and immediately regret it; thanks to my mum’s magic, it’s no longer bent at an unnatural angle, but a good chunk is missing from his flesh and its clearly a jaw shaped mark. My fingers subconsciously brush my very much intact leg as I slow my pace down the stairs. Goddamnit, why is it always me?

All is forgotten now I’m curled up in an armchair at the side of the room, my eyes fixed on my brother as I rip apart the bread in my hands with my teeth. He’s sitting up now, also eating with a ravenous hunger. It must be a werewolf thing, having an appetite so large to the point it could be classed as savagery. My knees are drawn up to my chest and my chin is resting on my knees. My posture is awful, but Mae’s wasn’t going to be winning the favour of chiropractors either. I thought I managed to expel the sleepiness from my system but apparently not, my eyes are battling to stay open and my limbs feel about ready to go numb. I’m slowly falling asleep, drifting off to sleep, the pain easing slightly as I do so. Maybe sleeping all the time is a good option, and I should take a leaf out of Remus’ book.

A loud gasp rudely pulls me out of my half asleep state and I quickly turn my head in order to glare at whoever made the noise. Mum is making the same face as me, but as if on cue, our expressions soften nearly identically as my dad wafts two thick looking envelopes towards us. If that’s what I think it is…

I’d be lying if I hadn’t been thinking of this moment as soon as I realised where I was. Eleven year old Mae would be ecstatic to be able to open a real life letter from Hogwarts, and I’m in the exact same position as Romana. I take the letter carefully from my dad, the weighty thing of paper shaking around due to my trembling hands. Without even a glance or slight hesitation, I grab the seal and rip it open, quickly scanning over the letter and various lists inside of it. I already know the contents off by heart, and this is just a form of affirmation. Beaming, a warm feeling igniting in my chest, I look over to Remus, anticipating us to share an excited reaction. However, instead, his bottom lip is trembling and he looks like a rabbit caught in headlights.

“How?” He whispers, “I’m a werewolf! What if- what if I- I accidentally attack a student!”  
My gut twists. How could I gloss over this? Of course my previous Harry Potter knowledge from the alternate reality thing has provided me with the knowledge that it’ll be fine and we won’t lash out in wolf form, but Remus doesn’t know that.   
I glance back at the injury on his leg and my throat constricts. There is always the slim possibility. I stifle a sob with the back of my hand, dropping the letter to the floor and curling further into myself. 

Of course I’m being the selfish one, not taking others into account. 

A warm and heavy weight settles on my shoulder and draws me into the source.

“It’s okay, love. Calm down. We’ve already discussed it with the teachers, there’s a plan in place. It’s not the most advanced or comfortable plan, but at least you’ll be able to get a proper education, okay?” My mother’s soothing voice comforts me, as I wipe a single tear from the side of my cheek. I nod gently and unbury my head, turning back to look up at my dad and brother. It’s going to be okay. There’s no way I’m going to attack a student. I’ll limit the damages to my twin. 

The excitement and then panic of the event reminds me that I haven’t slept properly in around twenty hours. My eyelids drop closed again and my body slumps down in the chair. Just before I’m completely out of it, I can feel a blanket being draped over my shoulders, before my head is tilted to be in a slightly more comfortable position. 

“They are going to be okay, aren’t they, Lyall?” 

It’s uncertain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ravenclaw_Peredhel here.   
> As always, chapter co-written with the marvellous Azulights who is far too obsessed with torturing poor Rommie (I never said that) 😇   
> Enjoy!!
> 
> az notes- HEY! don't expose me like this-


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